


Pale Blue Eyes

by Mraowface



Series: Velvet Underground [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, M/M, The Velvet Underground - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 13:57:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20908790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mraowface/pseuds/Mraowface
Summary: Crowley has a flashback to six thousand years of longing for Aziraphale.  Aziraphale does his best to look after him.





	Pale Blue Eyes

It was summer, and Crowley woke up from a two-day nap looking fragile. He told Aziraphale he would go out for some air.

The angel was worried, but let Crowley have his space. There was plenty to keep up with at the bookshop. He pottered around, and distracted himself by internally discussing the various merits of some nearby restaurants where he could treat Crowley to his favourite dinner.1

When it reached six o'clock, Aziraphale was struggling to hide his concern. He fluttered around the shop nervously, before abandoning all pretence of working. He settled on the stool behind the counter, and stared at the shop door, willing it to open.

Nothing. He tried calling Crowley's mobile: also nothing. He fretted anxiously for another fifteen minutes, before he decided to mount a search party. Of course the demon could look after himself,2 but he'd seemed very out of sorts this morning.

Aziraphale took a minute to assess the best place to start. The park? Crowley had been known to go there alone sometimes, moodily throwing bread at the ducks, but on a warm summer's evening it would surely be too crowded for the demon's current mindset. The flat then. There wasn't much left there, Crowley having moved all his plants and the more interesting artworks over to the bookshop flat long ago, but maybe he missed his solitary life a little? He certainly hadn't wanted to talk to Aziraphale this morning.

The angel took the bus to Crowley's flat, mentally running through scripts for when he got there. About how he knew Crowley needed his space sometimes, and _surely_ they could work something out. He would give the demon whatever he needed. Aziraphale knew he was catastrophising, but he couldn't help but think the worst. Crowley didn't want him. He was fed up with his pottering, ineffectual angel. Wanted to go back to how things were before, their separate lives. Aziraphale shivered at the thought, despite the sweltering public transport.

When he got to Crowley's door, it took an effort of great will to knock. There was no answer, and Aziraphale had to summon up all his nerve to just open the door once it was clear that no-one would be opening it for him.

The flat was quiet, but there was a faint noise coming from the direction of the bathroom. And steam escaping from around the door, Aziraphale now saw.

When he opened the bathroom door, great billows of steamy air escaped. Aziraphale could barely see inside. The shower was running, pouring out torrents of painfully hot water. He still couldn't see Crowley.

It wasn't until he came fully into the bathroom, right up to the shower cubicle, that he found the demon, curled up on the floor, letting the scalding hot water wash over him. His normally pale body was lobster-red from the heat. Aziraphale gasped, and quickly reached in to switch off the water. It was then that he heard the music, playing so faintly that he hadn't noticed it before. There was no kind of sound system in the bathroom, but all the same he could just make out some of the lyrics. _The fact that you are married/ Only proves you're my best friend/ But it's truly, truly a sin._ Crowley was crying.

The demon hadn't even noticed the water shutting off – it was only when Aziraphale crouched down to him, and touched his cheek, that Crowley flinched and uncurled just enough to see the angel. It hurt Aziraphale to see Crowley's face crumple even further when their eyes met.

“Crowley love please, what's going on?” Aziraphale's voice shook. “You're hurt...” He laid a hand on the demon's ribcage, and Crowley shivered at the cool touch. His whole skin was on fire. “Have you – you've not been like this all day?”

With a look of shame on his face, Crowley nodded slightly. His eyes were swollen from crying, and his bottom lip was chewed ragged.

Aziraphale sat heavily on the floor. It didn't look like Crowley would leave the shower cubicle willingly, and there wasn't room inside for them both.

“Please my love, tell me what's going on.” The endearment made the demon wince, and he curled further into himself again.

Aziraphale sighed, and made a decision. Crowley clearly wasn't ready to speak, but at least he could do something about the poor demon's scalded body. Aziraphale began to gently run his fingers over Crowley's skinny frame, slowly urging it to heal and return to its usual colour. He soothed the demon's skin with delicate strokes, until it finally looked healthy though pale again.

Crowley exhaled deeply. Avoiding eye contact still, he unfurled his tightly knotted body a little, let himself become a tiny bit more exposed. His fingers twitched, and Aziraphale reached out to squeeze them.

They stayed like that for some time, Crowley unable to look even close to where Aziraphale was sitting, but both of them feeling the fragile connection between their hands. Finally Crowley squeezed back, and made to sit up.

He struggled to make his body obey, but between them they got him into a sitting posture. He hugged his knees in with one hand, but allowed the angel to keep hold of the other one. Eventually he spoke hoarsely.

“1969.”

“What do you mean, dearest?” Aziraphale tried to keep his tone calm, although in reality he was feeling sick with worry.

“1969. It's when this song came out. I... I never thought I could have you. Six thousand years and I never ever... You're so beautiful, and I knew I could never -”

Aziraphale squeezed harder, almost hurting the demon. “Love, you've got me. I'm right here. I'm right here, and you'll never be alone again.”

Crowley sobbed. “I – I know. It's just... six thousand years is a long time. I thought I was over it, and then... I dreamt about it. Hearing this song, and _knowing_ it was about you, and I could never have you.”

There was a long pause. Aziraphale gently stroked his demon's hand. “I'm so sorry, my love. I know I can never give you back those six thousand years. I hurt you so much, for so long. I'd like to make you a promise though, for the next six thousand. I will _always_ be by your side. For eternity”

Crowley finally looked up, and met the angel's eyes. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

1Crowley's favourite dinner was in fact watching Aziraphale eat, but the quality of espresso available was also important.

2Except when he very clearly couldn't.

**Author's Note:**

> For Valvopus - I wouldn't want to live without you <3


End file.
